Tommy advanced into the room; but being arrested by the sight of Miss Jemima, who stood at the bed-foot, he stopped short half-way between the bed and the door, and honoured that formidable lady with a trembling bow. Miss Jemima's mood this morning was complacency itself, and she acknowledged the obeisance of the little huckster with a not ungracious nod. Greatly encouraged, Tommy moved a pace or two nearer to the bed. "I'm deeply thankful, Mr. Horn," he said, "to see you looking so well." "Thank you, Tommy," responded "Cobbler" Horn, with a smile, as he reached out his hand. "The Lord is very good. No doubt He has more work for me to do yet." As Tommy almost reverently took the hand of his beloved and honoured friend he thought to himself, "I wonder whether he has considered what I said?" "The last time we met, Tommy," began "Cobbler" Horn, as though in answer to the unspoken question of the little man--"But, sit down, friend, sit down." Tommy protested that he would rather stand; but, being overborne, he effected a compromise, by placing himself quite forward on the edge of the chair, and depositing his hat on the floor, between his feet. "You remember the time?" resumed "Cobbler" Horn. "Oh yes; quite well!" "It was the afternoon of the day I was taken ill." "Yes; and Mrs. Bunn said you _would_ go out in that dreadful rain." Tommy did not add that he himself, watching through his shop window, in the hope that his friend would come across to ask the meaning of his mysterious words, had, with a sinking heart, seen him walk off in the opposite direction through the drenching shower. "Well," said "Cobbler" Horn, with a smile, "I've had to pay for that, and shall be all the wiser, no doubt. But there was something you said that afternoon that I want to ask you about. At the time I thought I knew what you meant. But I am inclined now to think I was mistaken, and that your words referred to something quite different from what I then supposed. Do you remember what you said?" It was impossible for Tommy Dudgeon to conceal the agitation of his mind. He rejoiced at the opportunity to make known his great discovery to his friend; and yet he trembled lest he should prove unequal to the task. He thought, for a moment, that he would gain time by seeming not to understand the reference his friend had made. "What words do you speak of, chiefly, Mr. Horn?" he asked tremulously, "I said so many----" But Tommy Dudgeon could not dissemble. He stammered, stopped, wiped his forehead, and stretched out his hands as though in appeal to the mercy of his hearers.